


the one in which the world sucks, drama is nigh and everyone needs ten naps

by wajjs



Series: Across The Universe (vld fics) [24]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Avengers AU, Drabble Collection, Langst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Warnings May Change, based on art, iron lance, shance winteriron au, super soldier keith, winter soldier shiro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2019-12-25 13:54:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18262661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wajjs/pseuds/wajjs
Summary: The world is fucked up, Lance knows everyone around him thinks the same.  How could they not? There's evidence everywhere they look.





	1. 1 or: The one in which the world is fucked up and your homie and his friend are there to remind you how everything’s shit

**Author's Note:**

> Everything that will be featured here has as inspiration @cissilian's shance winteriron au — you can find everything about it in [this twitter thread](https://twitter.com/cissilian/status/1109698404010086401)!!!!!
> 
> The first drabble was inspired by [this part of the au](https://twitter.com/cissilian/status/1109995118860353537)
> 
> All these drabbles are mostly just short scenes set in a bigger au hdsad
> 
> There's not a direct correlation between MCU characters and VLD characters in this au. That being said, Lance would be Iron Man, Keith would be a version of Captain America (but he isn't really Cap Am), Shiro's the Winter Soldier & so on. More characters will appear soon (hopefully)!!!!

 

**1 or:**

**The one in which the world is fucked up and your homie and his friend are there to remind you how everything’s shit.**

 

 

 It’s a bad habit he has and that he tries hard to control. It’s a bad habit. At first he didn’t know that but after some time with Veronica telling him off, he’s come to the conclusion that it, in fact, is: saying whatever he wishes to say regardless of how others may feel, react; saying whatever hurtful thing comes to the forefront of his mind, saying anything so carelessly, and never caring enough of the consequences and impacts of his words.   
 Isn’t that how everyone came to know him as who he is now in the eyes of the world?

 He bites his tongue right after those words tumble gracelessly out of his mouth and the air in the room becomes heavy — one wrong expanse of breath and the very ceiling would be coming crashing down on them.  If that were to actually happen, considering the offices on the upper floor, he thinks that would be another tragedy he desperately does not want on his shoulders.

 Which is when he hits the breaks on his thoughts and swallows drily, desperate now for a glass of scotch or whisky.  A glass made by a whole bottle.  _ But I promised Vero, promised I wouldn’t— _

 So he keeps tinkering away, fixing what needs fixing and is clear and real to his eyes and hands: something to ground himself on, even if that something is—even if it is— but of course it is, the world is fucked up like that, and he guesses he’s still reaping what he sowed during all those previous years, when he…

_Another one for the bottle._ _If he talks to Vero, perhaps she’ll keep him company for a while and maybe he’ll be able to stay within the lines._ Their dad really fucked up keeping them apart.  He had really needed someone back then. He still needs so much now.

 

 Lance knows Keith is staring at him with that look in his eye that makes it seem like he’s been constipated for a week.  Except knowing Keith, he’s probably been constipated  _ emotionally _ ever since he woke up again to a world of who-knews, what-ifs, familiarity long dead and decaying in a graveyard.  (Two can play the game of being guilty of survival.)

 Lance knows Keith is staring at him and so is (he has to remind himself to breathe and focus and  _ do not let this screwdriver fall out of your hand into this fucking arm _ ) Shiro, who, fuck, talk about the world being a sick bastard.  Lance is still shaken, inside, of course, he is. He knows he is but he also knows he’s been working very hard on not letting it show too much, though he fears he’s failed at that.

 And Keith’s warning rings clear and final in the air between all three of them.  Lance frowns and squints his eyes, this time he beats the bad habit by biting down on his tongue till he tastes copper.

 But he knows Shiro’s still looking at him: looking with those big, lost eyes, looking earnestly with emotions Lance  _ does not want _ to admit he recognizes.  In the end, everyone he meets has the same eyes he sees in his own reflection: they are all haunted, like a part of their souls were ripped, like they are still sticking around, kicking, when during long nights the silence and dread turns everything into white noise.

 But who cares about Veronica judging him? Tonight, he’s going to drink.  He  _ needs _ it.

 

-


	2. 2 or: The one in which the world is (still) fucked up but your bro’s got your back because he’s a good bro like that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone walks their very own special kind of hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sort of continuation of the previous drabble, set some time after (but all during the same day)!

 

 

**2 or:**

**The one in which the world is (still) fucked up but your bro’s got your back because he’s a good bro like that**

 

 

 It’s experience the only thing letting him react in a way that won’t make the already crappy situation escalate into something worse.  It’s experience he never thinks he shouldn’t have because looking back at the past like that is useless.

 He doesn’t sigh or roll his eyes or say anything out of the ordinary because, as much as it sucks, this isn’t something new or strange in the same way things that only happen once in a while are.  Of course it’s not like that; this is something that happens fairly often, even if now it’s more controlled and never quite as bad. Some might say it’s still  _ bad _ , no excuses or explanations, but the road to getting better is different for everybody.

 Lance looks up from his fixation on the bottom of his almost-empty glass, alcohol building up enough for him to not chase away the haunted look in his eyes — a haunted expression that doesn’t leave him even when he smiles a million watts smile.

 “My bro! My honey bear!! Where have you been?,” and Lance laughs yet the sound seems like vitriol, “Want a drink,  _ schnookums _ ?”

 Ryan sighs and for a second he’s taken back to the past, when the two of them were much younger and the ghosts chasing them so different.  Everyone walks their very own special kind of hell.

 “Sure,” he says and finishes crossing the room so that he’s standing next to Lance.  This close he can see the dark bags under troubled blue eyes, the bruises on his friend’s forearms, the way those hands are minutely shaking.  “I’m parched.”

 “That’s what’ya get for runnin—running around all day,” with a snort, Lance hands Kinkade a glass filled with scotch.  

 He represses a wince. Ryan doesn’t know what set his friend off this time, but it surely must be something with emotional weight.  He’ll have to ask C.O.R.A.N. later, once Lance is asleep.   Which doesn’t seem like it’ll happen any time soon.  Tonight is going to be a slow night, it seems. Lucky thing Ryan’s known for his patience (patience he only has in spades when it comes to Lance and only Lance).

  
  


 It’s hours later and Ryan is still drinking his first glass.  He’s also been sending Veronica short updates on Lance’s condition, trying to see if she knew of anything that might have caused this episode while, at the same time, keeping an eye on Lance to stop him from opening yet another bottle.  He’s not about to let his friend go down tonight like that.

 They’ve been mostly silent, which is, all things considered, not too uncommon.  Lance, for all the life he has, all that energy and genius, can be taciturn when things get like this.  It’s ok because Ryan  _ understands _ ; he understands and for that he knows Lance is likely to be honest with him instead of working around what bothers him so that he doesn’t have to put it into words.  A ghost of a smile makes Kinkade’s lips twitch when Lance’s head finally falls on his shoulder, succumbed to memories and old wounds that have yet to heal. It’s a resigned smile, one he only ever shows when his friend cannot see.

 “‘m tired,” Lance whispers, setting his glass on the bar, body heat almost suffocating Ryan.

 “Let’s take you to bed, then,” he says, leaving his glass as well and standing up slowly, keeping an arm around Lance’s waist.  “You’ll feel better once you sleep.”

 Lance stumbles with his own feet and mumbles out curses.  There’s a fragility about him, the distinct impression that he’s very much about to shatter.  It takes him awhile, between their awkward walking towards the elevator, to speak again.

 “Can you—,” he huffs and laughs, lifting his eyes to meet Ryan’s steady gaze, “can you stay with me tonight?”

 What goes unsaid is:  _ I don’t think I can trust myself. _

 What goes unsaid is:  _ I’m tired of this shit and I might do something I’ll regret. _

 Ryan hears it all the same, and that’s why he doesn’t hesitate when he replies: “Yes.”

 

-


	3. 3 or: The one with the mild midlife crisis, because those can happen at any time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon on tumblr said: Romelle and Plaxum as Harley and Spiderman aka children Iron dad Lance lowkey adopted when he got sad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was actually going to be more angsty but then mr. blue sky started playing and i lost all ability to write something sad djslakdjskla 
> 
> i'm sorry it's so short otl

 

 

**3 or:**

**The one with the mild midlife crisis, because those can happen at any time.**

 

 

 No one was there to say anything the first time it sort of happened.  Or the second. And probably no one would be present, either, the times to come in the arguably near future (or maybe they will, who knows, because this kind of thing happens at unexpected times in which he’s feeling a particular way and he’s been feeling it for long enough to cause a certain degree of admission).  The important fact, though, is that the two times it happened, he felt less like garbage and more like he actually has a purpose, like he’s actually—actually good.

 In this time and age, not many things can accomplish such a feat.  He’s far from old as much as he’s far from undeniably happy; he’s just numb somedays, sometimes because he feels too little, many others because he feels too much.  He still puts on a smile and dances the steps of a well known dance with such expertise that only Vero and Ryan can see through the facade. It’s alright, he insists, unaware that nowadays even Shiro can look beyond the lie.

 But right now, right now there’s none of that.  Right now Lance is vaguely aware of his features softening, losing their edges, as he looks at Romelle trying on the costume he’s helped improve.  For one glorious second he almost believes that his core is shining brighter because of the sudden waves of pride and adoration he feels. Gods, he’s going to try his hardest to make sure Romelle doesn’t have to go through hardship alone.  Plaxum, too; in his eyes both deserve the world and all the good it has to offer.

 

 “Look at this!,” Romelle exclaims in the midst of her effervescent laughter, and she jumps and twists and lands upside down on the roof, “This suit is so much better than my previous one!”

 The corners of Lance’s eyes crinkle and the pools of blue in them swirl with the light coming in through the windows.  

 “I sure hope so,” he grins and steps closer, hands on his hips as he tilts his head backwards so he can look at the girl in all her youthful glory.  He sees a bit of his lost innocence in her. “Do you like it?”

 With a graceful flip and spin mid-air, Romelle lands just a few feet away from him.  “Are you kidding?,” she giggles, unable to stop moving, almost dancing across the whole room, “I love it!”

 

-


	4. 4 or: The one in which Keith sees too much and says too little

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is certain that there's nothing to wash his hands clean of this. This is a stain he has to carry with all his shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> taking a break from my other fic to write this super short drabble fjsjfjs enjoy!

 

 

**4 or: The one in which Keith sees too much and says too little**

 

  Sometimes Keith looks at Lance and has to fight back a twitch.

  Every single time he sees that haunted look in Lance's eyes, he has to fight back a twitch that comes from him repressing his urge to tear something in two.  With his bare hands. Because among the many reasons for Lance to get that look, Keith knows he's contributed to some of them; he knows sometimes Lance looks at him and remembers all of that.

  He knows too well what usually happens after that: Lance losing one of his many fights with his demons, him hiding from everyone and everything that isn't a bottle.  There's no denying it, not when he notices the worry adding lines to Veronica's face or the pain and frustration that overcomes Ryan after helping Lance come back to them.

  
  
  Keith is certain that there's nothing to wash his hands clean of this. This is a stain he has to carry with all his shame.

 

-

 

  Keith stands in the sidelines and watches Shiro trying to accommodate to Lance. Watches the sad, kind of resigned, dance Shiro goes through religiously because his guilty complex is as big and never-ending as the universe itself. Lance never notices, or maybe he acts like he doesn't and then proceeds to drink himself (and his sorrows) under the table in an attempt to go back into his previous oblivious state. It's hard to tell.   
  
  He can't help but think that he's ruined too many things, but he wants to keep trying. He wants to do good, to be good for his friends, to get the chance to be there when he didn't have it before. So Keith owns up to his mistakes and his fuck ups, lives with them constantly weighing him down and uses them as a way to remind himself of his goals here. A reminder to never hurt a friend again.

  
-

  
  
  Keith's talking to Shiro, going over reports, when over Shiro's shoulder he sees Veronica approaching Lance. She's the only one who comes near him lately without bringing bad news to him. She's one of the two people in Lance's life that has never, ever, given up on him. Not even once.  
  
  Veronica is strong, Keith muses, half paying attention to what Shiro's saying. Perhaps she's the strongest of them all.

  
  
_"Hey, Lance. Lance, come on. We need to get you out of that armor."_  
  
_"I know, Vero,"_ Lance sighs, his eyes shattering, _"just. A bit more. Let me keep it on a bit more."_

 

-


End file.
